


a song for the ages

by sendtherain



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen, Not particularly Rhaegar friendly but not demonizing him either, R plus L equals J, References to the Tourney at Harrenhall and the Tower of Joy, Some exploration of Lyanna's thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendtherain/pseuds/sendtherain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short glimpses into Lyanna's life: meeting Rhaegar, learning her family's fate, and finally seeing Ned again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a song for the ages

She remembered the first time she had seen him, in the year of the false spring. Her excitement at the thought of witnessing a real tourney had been so strong, it blocked out all other concerns. _I might never become a knight_ , she had thought, _but I can still learn from them._ Even the day of the feast, she still couldn’t believe her father had allowed her to come. The sight of the White Swords, smell of freshly roasted meat and sound of heralds’ trumpets had been so overpowering that the dragon prince himself was just another face in the crowd.

She had spent the first fourteen years of her life cooped up in the North, forced to sate her hunger with broken branches instead of steel swords and Old Nan’s stories in place of her own adventures. Ever since her mother’s untimely death, Rickard Stark had kept his only daughter so sheltered that she hadn’t even been present for her own engagement. She had cried bitterly after Ned left her chambers that night. If only Robert’s wanton ways had been the sole cause of her distress. In fact, what she hated most was that he could father a bastard on some girl in the Vale and still wrap his cloak around her shoulders to claim her for his own, but she couldn’t go further south than Wolf’s Den before placing her life entirely in one man’s careless hands.

To have finally traveled so far from home, then, should have been enough. Donning a true knight’s armor and fighting a man other than Benjen should have been enough. She would have her own story to tell. One day Old Nan might have spoken of The Knight of the Laughing Tree and how, try as the Mad King might, his identity was never discovered. Lyanna would have hidden her smile as her own children gasped and clamored to know more. And that, surely, would have been enough to last a lifetime.

But then Rhaegar sang his song, and a lifetime was hers no longer.

 

\--

 

The flush of first love had faded as soon as she heard the news from King’s Landing.

Fists pelted her prince’s chest and her screams echoed through the halls of the Tower of so-called Joy, but Rhaegar barely flinched. Instead he held her face in his hands and tried to entrance her once more with those dark indigo eyes.

“I’m sorry, my love. Your father and brother were good men, I know.” His voice was rich with pain, but she refused to believe it was real. Why hadn’t he told anyone the plan? Why insist on keeping it a secret from her family? He had to have known this would happen.

 _I am the one who should have known_. Brandon’s rash nature was notorious, and it would not have taken much to convince Rickard that action must be taken. Her father would never take such a stain on his honor lightly. And the King… Well, Mad was more than just his moniker.

Suddenly Rhaegar released her, and the loss of his fiery warmth chilled her to the bone. “I must ride to battle.”

Somehow his new words hurt more than his previous ones. “Why must you go?”

“My father has need of me.”

A thousand cruel words flooded her mind, but all she said was, “So does your wife.”

His forehead creased with worry. “Ser Gerold has promised to stay and guard you through your pregnancy.” He reached for her again, but she slapped the offending fingers away.

“I meant Elia. Your wife in the sight of gods and men. And your children. Have you forgotten them?”

She saw that her reproach had cut him deeply and waited for his anger to take over, but none did. Her sweet prince’s lungs never filled with the fiery breath of the dragon whose blood he claimed to possess. It saddened her to realize that the gentle, brooding nature that had won her girlish heart a mere year ago now churned her stomach.

“Of course not, Lyanna. The prince and his mother are safe within Maegor’s Holdfast. But you and your child are of paramount importance. Never forget: the dragon must have three heads.” Without waiting for a response, he kissed her forehead and left her to grieve alone.

By morning he would be gone. She knew instinctively that she would never again hear his soulful voice sing of the tragedy of Summerhall or his harp lull her to sleep, just as surely as she would never watch Brandon toy with another unsuspecting maiden. Even if she made it out of Dorne and back to Winterfell, what would Ned and Benjen think of her once they knew the truth? That she had _wanted_ to leave them all and flee south with a man whose father was responsible for all their losses? She sank to the ground, her cheeks hot with tears. Her knees bruised against the unforgiving floor, but her mind was focused on Rhaegar's last words.

 _The dragon must have three heads_. The prophecy that had once filled her with pride was all she had left to cling to now, she supposed. To think that _she_ had been chosen to give birth to a savior of the world. Nothing could set right the pain she had caused the ones the she loved, but perhaps the warrior princess she carried inside her would help Aegon heal the kingdom and prepare them all for the coming battle.

Ser Arthur Dayne gently lifted her to her feet. “Come, Your Grace. You need rest.”

As she was guided back to her chambers, the smell of blue winter roses invaded her senses. Once her prince had gifted her them in lieu of a crown, and she had imagined them a symbol of eternal love. With those roses in hand, she had written herself the kind of song that would be beloved of singers for a hundred years to come. Now, though, they made her feel more like a cautionary tale.

 

\--

 

“Lya, I promise…” Ned’s grip on her tightened, and she knew it was because he felt her own hold on life slackening. “But what will I name him? Tell me that, at least.”

Rhaegar had said it would be a girl, and that Lyanna was to name her Visenya. His daughter was meant to be a warrior bride for the prince that was promised; the ice to his fire. But Rhaegar was dead. His sweet baby boy Aegon was dead. And what she held now in her weak arms was a son, not a daughter.

“You tell me,” she whispered hoarsely. “If you had a son, what would you name him?”

His eyes clouded in the interminable pause that followed, and the tears he was holding back threatened to spill over. She wished she could tell him it was alright to let them fall, that there was nothing that could hurt her anymore. But he was being strong for _himself_ , not for her, and after everything she had done she couldn’t take that away from him.

“I would name him after Jon Arryn, I think. He has been more than good to me.”

It was the harshest rebuke her brother had ever given her, though she was sure it wasn’t meant as such. Jon Arryn, who had given two nephews to her cause, would be her child’s namesake.

“Jon, then. A strong name. Nothing like his father’s.”

 _So much for Visenya._ If she were still the young girl she had been when she mistook a sad song for true love, she would cry from rage. Her flowers wilted, her family destroyed, her kingdom in chaos – and all because she let herself believe in a prophecy that had no meaning. But the last year had brought her wisdom as well as, and all she felt in her final moments was peace. Her song might fade away, but her son would live because it.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by the idea that Lyanna shared some similarities with Sansa; that it wasn't just her wolf's blood that led her to run off with Rhaegar but her belief in the prophecy he may have shared with her. I wrote it for a facebook contest, but I thought I'd post it as my initiation into ASOIAF fic. Thanks for reading!


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